Waiting
by Ronnie
Summary: My mother always told me I would marry a prince. I hate her for that, now. (Femslash ahead. Ginny WeasleyxHermione Granger.)


**Title: **Waiting

**Rating: **PG13

**Summary: **My mother always told me I would marry a prince. I hate her for that, now. 

**Feedback is always welcomed.**

My mother always told me I would marry a prince. When I was just a child, she would sit me on her lap and tell me all about the magical castle we would have. How the birds will sing on the day of our wedding, how the very heavens will celebrate with us. "You'll see, luv. He will sweep you off your feet when you least expect it". She made me promises of a white horse, of course. A white horse and a blonde haired blue-eyed prince that will be the incarnation of everything I've ever dreamt of. And I, as a naïve, wide-eyed girl, believed every word. I drank in her words and tales of a perfect life. My prince would come, I was sure of it. It was almost a ritual. She would set me down on the edge of the bed, sitting down behind me, brushing my hair in long strokes as she talked. Her voice would be dreamy, far away, and I would be mystified. My eyes would widen as she spread a fairy tale before me, describing every detail, never failing to give attention even to the smallest of them. I always believe my mother should have been a writer. 

As I grew up, I realized that everything wasn't necessarily as she described it. Princes on white horses did not hang around bashful schoolgirls, waiting for the right moment to come along and sweep them off their feet in a flurry of robes and skirts and cloaks. No. Princes on white horses hung around princess on equally noble horses, with their beautiful dresses and golden hair and smiles that could light up even the darkest, moonless sky. Princes on white horses hung around in fairy tales. But something within me refused to give up on my childhood fantasy. Something within me told me that one day, one day he would come and all will be right. I think that is why I developed such a crush on poor Harry Potter. At the time, he was the closest thing to a prince. 

I was so engrossed in my prince fantasy that I let her slip away. 

Now, looking back, I don't even remember how I came to realize that for her my heart hammered in my chest every morning, and because of her I kept sneaking glances towards Harry. She was always with him. I just began to notice her more and more, heart fluttering with anticipation every time I thought of being near her. I made excuses so I could join their little party, almost forgetting the fact that I was just a pest to them. 

Ever the silent one, I watched her. Watched her as she slaved over her schoolwork, constantly bent over a book or two, brows creating a small wrinkle between them. I watched as she laughed and talked with Harry and my brother, throwing her head back in that exact angle every time, cinnamon eyes twinkling with mirth. She was perfect. Perfect despite the bushy hair and despite the bucked teeth. Perfect despite all her flaws. 

I _wanted _her. I longed for her. I couldn't keep my mind off her; I couldn't chase the haunting image of her out of my mind. It was maddening, knowing that she was so close yet so far away. At night, as my hands traveled downwards, almost on their own, it was her name that I choked into my palm.

But still… all this time, besides the plaguing thought of her, lay another. The image of a charming man on a white horse, galloping towards me and reaching an arm to pick me off the ground, to "sweep me off my feet", stayed etched onto my brain, refusing to leave me. What if he would come? What if he would come for me and I won't be there? I had waited for him for so long… what if I would miss him? 

So I tried to chase away her image, banishing her from my mind and throwing myself into my schoolwork. I barely saw her. A glimpse at dinner, a wave when boarding the carriages to Hogsmeade, a smile in the corridor on the way to Charms. I was set on making her haunting ghost disappear from my mind. And with time, I could almost ignore the dull pain in my heart, the pain of aching for her. I learned to ignore it, to live with it as one would live with a disability. It was just _there_ and there was nothing I could do about it. 

She graduated that year. Set about on her new life as an adult. And I watched her go, pride swelling within me against my wishes, mixing and swirling with sadness, hope and sorrow. She was leaving me. I watched her with wide eyes as she slipped away, inch by inch, until she was gone.

She married Ron less than a year after they had left school, just like everybody expected her to do. Today, almost nine years later, they have three children. I see her at family dinners, at birthdays, and I still feel that pain. I still feel it jabbing sharply against my rib cage, sending cold waves and tremors up my spine, down to my feet. 

My prince hasn't shown up yet. I am still waiting. I will wait until I die. 

And until I die, I will curse myself for letting her go. 


End file.
